


tome of +5 frustration

by xenosaurus



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blow Jobs, Comedy, Established Relationship, M/M, Magic, Premature Ejaculation, Sexual Frustration, accidental orgasm denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenosaurus/pseuds/xenosaurus
Summary: Sylvain learns the hard way that people who invent curses are a creative bunch.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 361





	tome of +5 frustration

**Author's Note:**

> look. I had the thought "haha no nut november sounds like a really bad orgasm denial prompt". somehow four thousand words of comedy and explicit sex happened. I don't know either.
> 
> also this would have gone up in november but my beta has finals, which is INCREDIBLY funny given that this is the fic that got delayed. get wrecked, sylvain (also thank you for betaing, benny, you're the light of my life)

Mages in Fodlan work primarily with their hands. Sylvain knows from Byleth’s black magic lectures that this isn’t the same everywhere, that written spells in books are common elsewhere. He thinks about it sometimes, when his hands are burnt and shaking from spellwork. Staves help, but they’re just conduits. The hands take the brunt of the magic.

It had always seemed like a better system to Sylvain. Less painful, at least. The downsides don’t occur to him until he’s actually handling the damn things.

Byleth found a few of them in amongst Rhea’s belongings after she took over the Archbishop’s old quarters. She asks Sylvain to help Annette go through them. He’s been putting off returning to his father’s territory, preferring to alternate between Dimitri in the capital and Byleth in the church, so it’s hardly his first odd job. He’ll take whatever he can get to stall.

Annette is humming to herself while she works, which only barely helps with the boredom of the task. He’d rather talk to her, but she’d banned idle conversation after he spent most of yesterday teasing her about her love life.

So, maybe he isn’t at his _most_ focused as he flips through one of the tomes. He knows better than to touch the looping calligraphy, to wear gloves in books that have it, and yet--

He doesn’t notice that the writing changes halfway down the page until his fingertips have already brushed across the spell.

He yelps and yanks his hand back, but the damage is already done. The pins and needles travel up his arm and spread into his stomach before Annette can even react.

“Sylvain?!” she asks, dropping the book she was holding. She rushes to his side, eyes wide.

“Shit,” Sylvain says, shaking his hand like he can shake the magic out. “Think I touched something, fuck--”

Annette grabs his book, and for a second he worries she’s going to have the same problem, but no, she’s wearing gloves. Goddess, he feels stupid. He should have been wearing a pair too.

“Okay, okay, don’t panic,” Annette says, clearly panicked. “Let me translate this, then we’ll go straight to the infirmary.”

“Good plan,” Sylvain says weakly, not liking the prickling in his guts.

“Oh, this says it takes something away but I’ve never seen this word before!” Annette says, stress radiating off her. “Come on, let’s go see Manuela, I’ll bring the book!”

The prickling feeling stops somewhere below Sylvain’s belly button and lingers for a moment before it fades out.

“Wait, hold on. Might be a false alar--” Sylvain starts to say, just before the feeling comes back with a vengeance and drops between his legs. It’s like getting kicked in the balls from the inside, and his knees immediately go out.

_Ouch._

* * *

Somebody must have helped Annette get Sylvain to the infirmary, because that’s where he wakes up. The pain is entirely gone, so when he opens his eyes to find Felix glaring at him, he has a brief moment of thinking he’s just slept in.

But, no, Felix is wearing clothes, so that’s right out. He’d never get out of bed and get dressed without forcing Sylvain to wake up first. He’s allergic to sleeping in, and that means Sylvain doesn’t get to either.

“Sylvain,” Felix says, and he sounds _pissed_ , but he’s also holding Sylvain’s hand tighter than is comfortable, like he’s terrified to let go.

“You’re awake!” Annette cries, from the other side of the bed. Until she spoke, Sylvain hadn’t even noticed there were people other than Felix in the room. Goddess, he really has it bad.

“You’re such an idiot. All you had to do was wear gloves and you can’t even do that much?” Felix complains, squeezing Sylvain’s hand until the pressure goes from ‘uncomfortable’ to ‘actually pretty painful thanks’.

“Hey, ow. I need that hand.”

Felix glares at him, but lets go anyways, turning his furious expression onto the floor.

“So, what’d it do to me?” Sylvain asks, turning the question to Annette. She twists her hands anxiously.

“We don’t know. Manuela says the way the curse is written, it’s supposed to last until the next full moon, and the effect should be the same throughout, but we can’t pin down what the effect _is_. It’s supposed to be whatever would bring you the most frustration.”

“Maybe it didn’t work, then. It hurt before I passed out, doesn’t hurt now.”

Felix relaxes visibly when Sylvain says that, but he has enough self preservation not to mention it.

“That’s good! It’s old magic, so it might not work anymore,” Annette says, hopefully.

“If anything, I’m feeling better than before! Maybe I just needed a nap,” Sylvain jokes. Felix scoffs.

“Could you take this seriously? For _once_?”

Sylvain gives him his best reassuring smile. “Come on, Felix, I’m okay. Look!”

He sits up and moves to get out of bed. Felix lurches forward to stop him, but he’s already on his feet.

“See, healthy as a horse!”

“Asshole,” Felix mumbles, but he really does look relieved. It’s kind of heartwarming. If Annette wasn’t watching, and Felix wasn’t so shy about it, Sylvain would have kissed him.

* * *

Manuela runs a few tests now that he’s awake, but within the hour, Sylvain is out of the infirmary with a clean bill of health. He feels totally fine.

Byleth still reassigns him to helping Cyril with the horses, and that leaves Ashe helping with the magic books, which is honestly a win for everyone. Sylvain was _just_ teasing her about that budding relationship. Maybe they’ll name one of their kids after him.

When nothing happens by dinner, he puts the book and its promised curse out of his mind entirely. Felix’s reaction requires more attention than the incident itself-- he’s always irritable after anything happens to Sylvain, prone to snapping over the tiniest things. Sylvain has some _very_ pleasant plans for calming him down.

Felix would deny it, but sex comforts him a great deal.

Sylvain barely waits for them to get back to his quarters, pulling Felix into a kiss the moment the door is closed behind them. Felix goes tense, but it’s a kind of tension Sylvain is familiar with by now. Felix pours all of his stress into the kiss, fisting his hands in Sylvain’s clothes to keep him close. Sylvain moans appreciatively.

“Careless asshole,” Felix grumbles, shifting his attention to Sylvain’s neck. Sylvain tilts his head back to give Felix better access to his throat, laughing when Felix immediately goes for the kill, pressing rough kisses right where Sylvain is most sensitive. The sensation shivers right through him, pooling at his groin to make him wish for something to rub against.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he pants, and Felix grunts irritably, not lifting his mouth from Sylvain’s pulse. “I really am okay, though-- shit, yeah, there, that’s good. I promise.”

“Would’ve been a damn stupid way to die,” Felix says, but while the words are harsh, the way he shifts forwards to let Sylvain grind against his hip is honey-sweet.

“I know, trust me,” Sylvain laughs. “Come on, let me suck you off. You’ll feel better.”

Felix nips him in retaliation for that last comment, but his response is muttered into Sylvain’s neck. “Fine.”

Sylvain cups Felix’s face in his hands and smiles at the way he doesn’t make eye contact, the heat of his blush warm against Sylvain’s palms. They’ve been doing this for months, but he’s still got that edge of embarrassment.

“You want to lay down or have me on my knees?”

Sylvain relishes the way Felix swallows hard, the obvious wanting in the twist of his fingers in Sylvain’s tunic.

“The bed,” he says, and Sylvain swears he can feel every sharp edge in his body go soft with affection. Felix has only allowed Sylvain to kneel between his legs once, unhappy with the bruises it left on his knees.

It takes them a too-long moment to get undressed, although shorter than it used to. Sylvain had made a valiant effort at stripping for Felix back when they first fell into bed together, but Felix had just gotten flustered and demanded he get on with it.

Honestly, he likes it better this way. Felix has always made it clear, intentionally or otherwise, that he doesn’t need Sylvain to make a show of himself.

Once he’s on his back on the bed, Felix is willing to let Sylvain manhandle him a little while they get comfortable. For all of his shyness, his cock is hard as iron, heavy against his toned stomach. Sylvain spares himself a moment to admire the sight, enjoying the warm ache of wanting that pulls at his chest as much as his cock.

And then he bows his head.

Felix jerks at the first firm stroke of Sylvain’s tongue, a low, tortured sound rising from his chest. Sylvain smiles to himself and fits his lips around the head, sucking softly until Felix’s hips come up off the bed. He’s so easy to rile up, and Sylvain’s cock throbs in time with his lover’s frantic breathing.

It’s only when Felix starts swearing that Sylvain really lets him have what he wants, holding his hips down with one hand and using the other to stroke what doesn’t fit in his mouth. There’s a real risk of getting bucked off or gagged here, because Felix starts to _thrash_ when he’s close to spilling, like it’s fighting its way out of his body.

Sylvain knows what side he’s on in _that_ conflict, so he sucks harder, abandoning all pretense of teasing. Felix shouts, slapping a hand over his mouth as soon as the sound makes it out into the room. He bites down on his own fingers to keep quiet, flushed all down his chest with exertion and arousal as he starts to shake. Sylvain knows his tells, but he doesn’t pull back, just pushes that much harder until Felix’s body snaps, pulses of bitter come hitting his tongue. Felix groans as Sylvain sucks him through it, wringing every drop of pleasure out of his body.

Sylvain only stops when Felix goes totally limp, panting for air like he’s been running for hours. He wipes at his eyes, and Sylvain wonders if it’s sweat or tears he’s trying to keep away from his eyelashes. Whichever it is, when he opens his eyes again, his pupils are blown and there’s enough warm satisfaction there to make Sylvain’s cock throb.

“My turn?” Sylvain asks, hopeful. Felix usually likes a little more recovery time, but _damn_ , that was intense. He’s feeling impatient.

Felix rolls his eyes, but the orgasm has brought out the gentleness in him, because he pushes himself up on shaky arms and lets Sylvain switch their positions. There’s little preamble, just a kiss to the inside of Sylvain’s thigh before he goes all-in.

Sylvain sighs from deep in his chest and leans back, letting the heavy pleasure of Felix’s mouth and tongue wash all the thoughts from his head. He fists one hand in the sheets, but trusts himself enough to run the other through the sweaty tangles of Felix’s hair without pulling too hard. He relaxes into the visceral feeling of wet heat around his cock and rolls his hips lazily against Felix’s rhythm, letting everything build until he’s gasping. His old instinct is to spout empty compliments at this point, but Felix doesn’t need that from him. Sylvain can just enjoy the bubbling tension until it finally boils over, only focusing enough to make sure he doesn’t gag him.

Felix gives him a particularly firm suck, and Sylvain moans his warning, body going tight and hot as he comes up to the end. Felix keeps going, charitable in the afterglow, and--

Sylvain doesn’t come.

He squirms against the edge of it, and Felix moves with him, giving him exactly what he needs. Nothing happens. Sylvain whimpers, starting feel frantic as the release doesn’t come, the pressure of being _so close_ becoming dizzy and desperate the longer it stretches on.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he moans miserably, clawing at the bedsheets. “Fuck, please, I’m right-- right there, come on…”

Felix makes a noise around his cock, and the vibration is torture, his body screaming to let go into that willing mouth. Felix is trying to make him come and Sylvain wants it so _badly_. He’s starting to panic as the seconds tick by.

“Come on, come on, a little more, fuck, please, just a little more, _please_ ,” his voice breaks on the last word, a real sob. Felix pulls back then, and when Sylvain opens his eyes to stare at him in utter betrayal, he sees horrified understanding on his lover’s face.

“Whatever would frustrate you the most! It’s this!”

Thoughts muddled by the painful throbbing between his legs, it takes Sylvain a long moment to figure out what the hell Felix is talking about.

When he puts the pieces together, he’s only a little ashamed to admit he cries.

* * *

One _incredibly_ embarrassing trip to the infirmary later, Sylvain sits on the edge of their bed, his head in his hands. Felix is leaning against the wall next to the desk, looking somewhere between irritated and exhausted.

“Three _weeks_ ,” Sylvain groans, utter and complete despair in his voice. “Three goddess-forsaken weeks until the next full moon.”

“You can survive three weeks without sex,” Felix says shortly.

“Felix, three weeks without sex is not the same as three weeks without getting off!”

“I shared a tent with you through the entire war, I know you can go a few weeks without… Whatever, you’re being ridiculous!”

Sylvain makes a face.

Felix takes a step away from the wall, rapidly turning pink. “If you’re saying that you-- while I was _right there_ , I’ll-- I’ll--”

“I would have invited you if I’d know you’d be into it!”

“That isn’t the point! You’ve seriously never gone without for three fucking weeks?”

“Why would I do that to myself voluntarily?”

“Well, voluntarily or not, you’re about to!”

Sylvain groans and flops backwards onto the bed. “Come on, Felix, have pity. It’s day one and I already feel like my balls are going to explode.”

“This wouldn’t be happening if you had any self preservation instincts at all! You’re lucky it isn’t permanent!”

Just the suggestion sends a chill up Sylvain’s spine. “Don’t even joke about that.”

Felix scowls. “I’m not joking. You could have _died_ , moron.”

Somehow, a lifetime without sex sounds just as bad, but Sylvain knows better than to actually say that. “I didn’t, though. Haven’t I learned my lesson enough without the lecture?”

Felix doesn’t reply at first, but after a moment of uncomfortable silence, he comes and sits next to Sylvain on the bed. “You’d better have.”

His tone is sullen in a way that makes Sylvain want to go burn that stupid book. He’d started out tonight trying to make Felix feel better, and now he’s more upset than when they started. With a sigh, Sylvain accepts his fate.

“Hey. C’mere,” he says, taking Felix’s wrist and tugging lightly, gesturing for him to lay down with him.

“We’re not trying again!” Felix protests. “You heard Manuela--”

“I’m not trying to fuck you! Just… Can we cuddle?”

Felix looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Come on, don’t make me give this up too.”

Felix flushes almost as red as he’d been with Sylvain’s mouth on him. _Cute._

“Fine!” he snaps, and throws himself on top of Sylvain with something resembling actual violence. It knocks the wind out of him, and Sylvain’s responding laugh comes out as more of a wheeze.

“No need to be so aggressive about it,” he says, putting a lazy arm around Felix and pressing his nose into his shoulder. Felix growls at him a little, but doesn’t bother responding properly. He’s wearing an old sleep shirt that Sylvain hasn’t seen since they started sleeping together. He remembers it from the war, late night emergencies where everyone was throwing armor on over nightgowns and unbrushed hair.

“So you really never touched yourself during a war march?” Sylvain asks, reminded of their earlier conversation.

“Shut up,” Felix says, elbowing him. “If you get hard talking about stupid shit I’m leaving.”

He’s probably bluffing, but Sylvain decides it isn’t worth the risk.

* * *

There are no candles lit inside the tent. In the darkness, Sylvain watches Felix squirm in his bedroll, one hand covering his mouth and the other hidden beneath the blankets. His expression is pinched tight with pleasure as he struggles to keep quiet.

Without a word, Sylvain lifts the blankets, climbing in with him. He nudges Felix’s hand out of the way and wraps his fingers around his cock. Felix moans, desperate and hot by Sylvain’s ear.

“No need to hold yourself back,” Sylvain whispers to him. Felix turns, pulling Sylvain into a messy kiss, and-- shakes him awake.

“Cut it out, moron!”

Sylvain groans in confusion and pulls away from the rough treatment. “Huh?”

“You were humping me in your sleep like a rabid dog!”

“I don’t think rabies... does that?” Sylvain says, which is apparently the wrong thing to say, because Felix gets out of bed.

“I’m going back to my room!” he growls, slamming the door on his way out. Sylvain has a moment to feel lost, because the last time he woke Felix with a wet dream they’d had delightfully sleepy sex, so what’s the deal?

He then remembers the deal, and buries his face in a pillow to groan.

* * *

The first day is awful. Felix leaves the room in a huff every time somebody asks Sylvain about the curse, and Sylvain feels pent up and jittery. It isn’t like he’s a stranger to getting interrupted in the middle of things, given how many of his dalliances were poorly timed and poorly planned, but it’s always been easy enough to fix once he got back to his room.

There will be no fixing it this time.

He takes Felix up on his standing offer to spar, which helps for the first twenty minutes, until Felix’s hair comes loose and he pauses to fix it. He takes it down for a moment, and Sylvain _immediately_ gets an erection.

“Shit,” he sighs, sitting down right where he’d been standing, still holding his lance.

“What’s wrong now?” Felix asks, and while he’s angling for irritated, Sylvain knows him well enough to catch that he’s genuinely worried.

“You’re gorgeous with your hair down,” Sylvain says, giving his lover a halfhearted wink.

Felix throws a scabbard at him.

“You’re ridiculous!”

* * *

By the end of the first week, Sylvain is starting to agree with Felix.

He’s also starting to turn _into_ Felix, with how much training he’s been doing. Exercise is the only thing that helps, wearing him out enough that he can actually _sleep_ , instead of lying awake thinking about how much he wants to put his hand down his sleep pants.

“You need to distract yourself. Obsessing over what you can’t have makes you want it more,” Byleth offers over breakfast one morning, after watching Sylvain stab a sausage for two straight minutes.

Easy for her to say, with a ring on her finger and a fresh love bite only half-hidden by her shirt, but it probably is good advice. He decides to give it a try.

By the end of week two, Felix is the only one still willing to spar with him, he has been temporarily banned from the greenhouse _and_ the kitchens, and he is no longer on speaking terms with at least two different guards.

Needless to say, distractions have not made him any more pleasant to be around.

There’s a light at the end of week three, but by that point, Sylvain is starting to feel like screaming at all times. Felix won’t kiss him, because Sylvain pops a boner every time he does. His dreams have gone from ‘sexual’ to ‘still sexual but also really unsettling’, so he wakes up feeling both horny _and_ anxious every day, which makes him want to punch something.

“I’m not going to make it to the full moon,” he complains one afternoon, while furiously cleaning his lance. Felix, who is doing sword maintenance nearby, rolls his eyes.

“You’ve made it this long. Get over it.”

“Come on, you’ve got to be feeling it too,” Sylvain says. “You’re going to hurt my feelings if you say you don’t miss the sex _at all_.”

“Shut up,” Felix grumbles, but the way his ears go red is very telling.

Sylvain is hard again, but in that exact moment, he doesn’t even care. “As soon as the curse is gone, we are spending all day in bed. Byleth will understand.”

“I’m not letting you skip meals,” Felix says, which isn’t even an attempt at a protest. Oh, he really wants it, doesn’t he? Sylvain is going to fuck him so _good_ once he’s got his dick back in working order.

For now, he laughs. “Can’t have that. Ingrid would be at the door by noon.”

Felix makes a face, and Sylvain leans over to kiss him. Felix pushes him away, but the obvious reluctance to do so is so, so sweet.

* * *

The day of the full moon drags its heels the whole way, but it does, eventually, arrive. Sylvain feels out of his mind with anticipation, buzzing with ideas for how to break his unintentional abstinence. Byleth, in all her saintly understanding, has given him _and_ Felix the next morning off from all duties, and he is going to take full advantage of that.

Felix makes him wait until nightfall, refusing to help him torture himself if the curse doesn’t lift until the full moon is actually in the sky. Sylvain is so pent up he actually considers trying it on his own, but he manages to talk himself down from that. The only good thing about this whole mess is how spectacular the orgasm is going to be coming out of it, and he’s not wasting that by himself.

The day goes by painfully slowly but dusk comes nonetheless. Sylvain has spent the past hour sitting outside the training grounds, hard and wanting while he waits for Felix to decide it’s gotten dark enough. By the time he finally does, Sylvain’s cock is aching and he’s pretty sure he’s put a new groove in the stone just from impatiently drumming his fingers against it.

“Finally,” he groans, when Felix tucks his sword away and joins him in the walkway.

“Don’t complain. This is still your fault.”

“Have mercy, I’m going to pop a seam in my trousers over here.”

Felix’s eyes dart down to Sylvain’s groin for a split second, then grabs him by the wrist to march him back to his quarters, face red with embarrassment.

Once they’ve got a door between them and the rest of the monastery, Felix turns and kisses him fiercely, an echo of Sylvain’s desperation. Sylvain feels it all through his body, moaning with relief at finally getting what he’s wanted all month.

Felix manages to get a hand into the minute gap between their bodies and finds Sylvain’s long-neglected cock. He squeezes through the fabric of Sylvain’s trousers, just enough so that Sylvain can really feel it, and rubs his palm along the length of it.

Sylvain whimpers and comes, his knees going out under him. Felix catches him, he must, because neither of them end up on the floor. Sylvain isn’t aware enough to follow how that happens; his whole world is the blissful tremors shivering up his spine and down into his toes. It feels so good, and Felix is warm and solid against him, and Sylvain could cry, he’s that happy.

He nuzzles Felix’s neck and shoulder as he comes back to himself, slowly shifting his weight back onto his own feet.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, too blissed out to really feel apologetic. He’ll be embarrassed in a minute.

“Shut up,” Felix grumbles, and, after a moment’s hesitation, leans his head against Sylvain’s. It’s strangely intimate, given the context. “I know you needed that.”

“I really, really did,” Sylvain sighs. “Thank you. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll fuck you however you want it.”

“I just told you to shut up,” Felix complains.

This time, Sylvain listens, but only because he’d rather grin into his lover’s neck.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [xenosaurus](https://xenosaurus.tumblr.com)


End file.
